


of salt and sand

by sonatine



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: 1800s new england, M/M, howling commandos ship crew!, lighthouse keeper bucky, mermaid steve, mythology AU, post civil war - like actual american civil war, sea and ships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-30
Updated: 2016-08-07
Packaged: 2018-07-28 06:20:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7628404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sonatine/pseuds/sonatine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Fresnel lens broke along with Bucky’s heart, and he folded into himself for the next year or so, until the <i>Howling Commando</i> dragged a half-drowned corpse to shore.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [likeyouwannabeloved](https://archiveofourown.org/users/likeyouwannabeloved/gifts).



**1870, New England**

The Fresnel lens broke along with Bucky’s heart, and he folded into himself for the next year or so, until the _Howling Commando_ dragged a half-drowned corpse to shore.

“This is not what I meant when I said ‘stop by and see me sometime',” Bucky said, still shrugging into his heavy wool sweater, probably uselessly: it was chucking it down and he was soaked already.

“I know, Sarge,” Dum Dum said grimly, and his lack of retort and liberal swearing alerted Bucky that this was very serious indeed. “But we picked up a body just off the sound.”

“Shit,” Bucky said. He looked to where the _Commando_ was moored, and then to the rowboat haphazardly docked on the shore. Four sailors were struggling to carry something heavy up the beach. “I'll wire the hospital.”

“No time,” Dum Dum said. Water was steaming off his bowler hat and dripping onto his moustache. “We would’ve taken him all the way to town but -- well, you'll see.”

Morita stumbled and Bucky caught a glimpse of a pale, thin green face lolling into his shoulder.

“Shit,” Bucky said again. “Okay, bring him inside by the fire.”

“Might be worth getting him into a hot bath,” said Carter, who Bucky was 90% certain was a woman, but never asked (and suspected Captain Dugan knew anyway). “His body temp is way down.”

“Yeah, okay,” said Bucky, jogging toward his house.

He filled up the metal tub halfway while a pot of water was boiling on the stove, then went back into his sitting room, where the commandos had arranged the overboard body nicely on Bucky’s mostly clean wooden floorboards. Someone, probably Jones, had thoughtfully propped a pillow under his head.

“You guys can take off,” Bucky said. “I'll take it from here.”

“You sure, Sarge?” Dum Dum said around the stoagie that somehow hadn't gotten soaked in the downpour. “We can hang around, drop him off at the hospital in town tomorrow.”

“Nah, clear off. You have shipping deadlines to make.”

Dum Dum clapped him on the shoulder. “I’ve got molasses and coffee beans for you on the return trip back up.”

“I'll believe that when I see it,” Bucky grumbled, hugging him goodbye all the same. “Take care of yourself. That storm out there’s a nasty one.”

“I ain't so hard to kill, Bucko,” Dum Dum said, clomping away on his wooden leg. “Some respect, please.”

Bucky bid the rest of the crew goodbye, pretending he couldn't feel the squish of the first mate’s breasts when she hugged him, and busied himself pouring the boiling water into the half-filled tepid tub.

He checked to make sure the body was still breathing, because there was little point slow-cooking a corpse, and it wasn't until he was propping up the thin blond head against the side of the tub that he noticed the hands.

Alabaster pale, like the rest of his exposed skin, and with thin webbing in between, delicate as Dentelle lace. Bucky would call the doc in the morning; maybe she’d be up to putting her fine scalpel skills to good use.

The body coughed and spluttered, and then the clearest blue eyes Bucky had ever seen fluttered open, focusing on his face.

“Where,” he croaked.

“You're safe,” Bucky said. “You took in a bit of water, but you're okay now. Just warming ya up.”

“Can tell,” the guy said petulantly. “Feels like stew.”

“Just gotta get your core temperature up first,” Bucky said. “You're riding pretty low. What's your name?”

The blue eyes blinked, confused. “Steve?” he ventured.

“Okay, Steve. Rest a bit. We’ll get you up and going in the morning.”

“Throat hurts.”

“That’ll be the saltwater. You probably coughed up quite a bit.”

“Don't think so?” Steve said sleepily, and dropped off again.

Bucky held vigil of the body and the lighthouse during the night and put out the kerosene and the bath when dawn broke.

+

Steve was awake in the afternoon when Bucky stumbled out of bed and down the stairs to the kitchen. He was pressed up against the window, staring.

“Uh, you can go outside,” Bucky said, lighting the stove and starting the coffee process.

Steve turned to him accusingly. “We’re on land.”

“Yeah. You don't remember anything? Dum Dum -- er -- Captain Dugan fished you out of the water last night. There was a bad storm, remember? He brought you here.”

“A storm,” Steve repeated. “Yeah, there was -- yeah, and a shark --”

“Jesus,” Bucky said, pouring two mugs of strong coffee. “You hungry? Eggs and bacon okay?”

“Sure,” Steve said after a long, considering pause. Bucky was just wondering what kind of weirdo Dum Dum had dumped upon him when Steve said, “Here, let me help. You need more firewood?”

“Uh, sure, thanks,” Bucky said, surprised. “It's out back.”

Steve returned with perhaps too much kindling, but the excess was matched by enthusiasm. “I've never seen a lighthouse function up close before. What do you do during the daytime? What happens if the glass breaks?”

“Daytime is mostly catch-up maintenance against the effects of saltwater,” Bucky said dryly. “The sea wreaks havoc on buildings and bodies both.”

“The sea exists for itself, not for humans’ use or pleasure,” Steve said loftily.

Bucky snorted and served them breakfast before going to check the barometric readings up top.

“You're not going to clean up the dishes first?” Steve said, trundling up the stairs behind Bucky.

“They’ll keep.”

“Your wife won't mind?”

“Not married,” Bucky said after a pause. “Not made for it. It's the bachelor life for me.”

“I see,” Steve said, keeping pace well. Bucky was impressed; he wasn't even huffing, and he was bundled in one of Bucky’s thickest sweaters and tweed trousers.

They reached the landing, below the giant lens, where Bucky kept all the equipment. He busied himself recording readings, while Steve snooped around.

“Shit,” Bucky said, again, staring at the barometer before him. “There's --” He reached for the telegraph on the desk and tapped out the message to the police chief down in town, hurriedly.

“There’s what?” Steve hovered over him, accidentally brushing his hand against Bucky’s arm. “Oh -- sorry,” he said, for Bucky had jumped.

“You're still cold as ice!”

“Oh, I always run this way,” Steve shrugged. “Don't worry.”

“I mean…” Bucky eyed him doubtfully. He was a little guy, sure, but even so -- “C’mon, let's get a move on.”

“Where are we going?”

“Town. Gotta get provisions and warn people.” _And make you see the doc,_ he added silently.

“Warn them about what?”

“Massive storm coming,” Bucky said, taking the stairs down two at a time. “The lowest pressure I've ever seen --”

“Ah,” said Steve, sounding guilty. “That may be my fault.”

“I doubt it,” said Bucky, breaking out into the sunlight and sprinting for the barn. “C’mon, we’ll go on horseback. Faster than the wagon. You okay riding pillock?”

“In theory,” Steve said cheerfully. “Only ridden seahorses up till now.”

“Punk,” Bucky muttered, getting Molly bridled up. “Come on, up you get.”

+

They blew into town with the sea wind, now whipping angrily through the trees. The police chief already had things well in hand, directing scurrying townsfolk here and there and advising as to the best methods of boarding up a house.

“Coulson,” Bucky said, reining Molly to a halt. “You seen the doc?”

“Um, last I saw he was at the McKinnons,” Coulson said distractedly, over the persistent shouts of _Sheriff! Sheriff!_

“Not Bruce,” said Bucky. “Romanov.”

“Ah.” Coulson made a face. “Haven't seen her. Who's this?”

“This is Steve,” Bucky said. “Dugan pulled him out of the water last night.”

“Deserter, huh,” Coulson said, and Steve’s eyes flashed.

“Son of Triton, actually,” Steve said coolly. “Which may serve useful in the face of this storm.”

“Ah,” Coulson said again, after a much longer pause. _Battle fatigue,_ his eyes said as they met Bucky’s, and Bucky nodded grimly. He was considering having Romanov maybe ask some quiet questions, when Tony Stark came skidding around the corner and into the town square, blacksmith tools still in hand.

“Sheriff! Sheriff -- oh Sarge, good, you're here too. It's Dum Dum. He just telegraphed in: the _Howling Commando_ 's out in the thick of it -- and taking on water.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ [tumblr link](http://sonatine.tumblr.com/post/148206203944/of-salt-and-sand) ]
> 
> update: look at [this beautiful moodboard](http://withxfeathers.tumblr.com/post/148696703297/moodboard-for-sonatine-s-beautiful-story-of) that [likeyouwannabeloved](http://withxfeathers.tumblr.com) made for this fic -- I want to curl up inside it on a rainy day


	2. Chapter 2

“Okay,” Bucky said, processing. “Okay. Stark, grab the doc --”

“Doc Banner?”

“No! Romanov -- Banner can't swim -- and meet me by the lighthouse. We’ll take a dingy out to meet them.”

“Right!” Tony said and zoomed away, ultra chipper for someone about to row a lifeboat into the eye of a storm.

Bucky turned to Steve. “Stay here and help the Sheriff with preparations. I'm sorry, I have to take care of this --”

“I'm coming with you,” said Steve.

“Are you kidding? You just drowned last night, you want to repeat that?”

“I'm coming with you,” he repeated stubbornly, tightening his arms around Bucky’s waist.

Coulson looked like he was about to protest, but Bucky didn't want to waste any more time. He clicked Molly’s reins and set them of back to the lighthouse at breakneck speed.

Bucky leapt off the horse as soon as they reached the barn. “Get her some water and wipe her down, will you?” he called over his shoulder as he raced down to where the small wooden dinghies were beached on the shore.

Stark and Romanov rode up not long after Steve had stabled, fed, and watered the tired horse. He reached the waterline just as they did -- and when the rain finally reached them.

“Natasha, you and Tony take a boat together,” Bucky yelled as he pushed a boat into the water. “I'll take this one.”

“By yourself?” the redheaded woman in calico and hoopskirts yelled back.

“It's fine!” Bucky leaped into the boat. “Steve, help shove me out!”

Steve pushed the back of the boat further into the ocean as Bucky handled the oars. Once they’d passed the breakers and Steve was waist-deep, Bucky said, “It's good! Go back to shore!”

Steve hauled himself up into the boat instead.

“What are you doing?!” Bucky shouted. "Swim back to shore!”

“You can’t row through an ocean in this state alone,” Steve said, taking one of the oars.

“Can you handle that?” Bucky said doubtfully. Steve could barely see him through the rain.

“I'm stronger than I look,” he said haughtily, and Bucky had no breath left to respond.

By the time they reached the _Commando_ , the hull was almost entirely submerged and sinking steadily, with the sailors clinging to the back of the boat, suspended in air.

“Jump!” Bucky shouted up to them, and they did, dropping into the roiling ocean with syncopated splashes. Half swam toward their boat; half toward Natasha’s.

And just as it looked like they'd cleared the safe range, the _Howling Commando_ sank entirely below the surface, creating a powerful suction with it, into which Captain Dugan was pulled.

Steve saw, more than heard, Bucky’s horrified shout, over the scream of the wind and creaking of wood. He stood and dove into the ocean.

+

“Steve, what the _fuck_ \--” Bucky yelled, but before he'd even finished his sentence, Steve too was gone.

“Jesus,” he said, hauling Jones and Morita over the side of the dingy. Carter and the others had tumbled into Stark’s boat and were already heading for shore.

“What’re we waiting for, Sarge?” Jones finally asked, hunched over the other oar in an attitude of defeated misery.

“Not sure,” Bucky admitted. The wind was tossing their boat around as it was; waiting around longer was as good as certain death.

There was a splash just next to the dingy, and Dugan’s head appeared above the surface. Jones gave a yelled and hauled him onboard.

“How?” he said, but Bucky was busy leaning over the edge and peering into the water. A face popped out from the ocean just inches away from him.

Steve grinned, happy and wide.

“You're a goddamn lunatic,” Bucky said, and pulled him aboard. He was soaked through to the skin and still light as air.

Steve flopped onto the bench beside him, laughing as he took hold of the other oar.

“What's that in your hand, Dum Dum?” Bucky screamed over the wind and rain.

Dum Dum looked down at his bowler hat and held it firmly onto his head.

+

The mood was grim when they all finally made it inside Bucky’s sitting room. The _Commando_ had delivered the last of its stock and had been heading did the West Indies, so they hadn't lost any goods -- and Dugan had put this round of money into the bank in town -- but the ship itself, all their supplies, instruments, clothing, possessions, charts, logs -- were gone.

Bucky lit a roaring fire and went into the kitchen to find some bread and cheese for everyone. He went into the larder, certain he had some salt pork left over, but apparently Dum Dum had eaten that the night before.

He came out and stopped short.

“Steve,” Bucky said. He was trying not to think about what has just happened. “Go into the henhouse and see if there are any eggs. We’ve got to get some food into these men.”

“One is a woman,” Steve said, and Bucky shushed him. “What, you didn't know?”

“Yeah, punk, everyone knows,” Bucky said, smiling. “But nobody says it out loud.”

“That's called superstition,” Steve said. “I thought humans were too rational for that.”

Bucky’s smile faded a little as he fetched a jug from the shelf. “Go find some eggs,” he instructed, going to the well outside.

He was still hauling up the bucket when Steve returned from the henhouse, three eggs in hand.

“This is all I could find. The chickens are mad at me for waking them up.”

“They’ll live,” Bucky said. “Even if the commandos starve. Were you in the war?”

Steve was unshaken by the abrupt change in tack. “Which one?” he asked patiently.

Bucky stared at him. “The war between the states. Coming on… God, five years ago?”

“Is that where these came from?” Steve said, lighting touching the grey at Bucky’s temples.

Bucky ignored the shiver running down his spine. “No, I'm just forty,” he said, cracking a smile. “You should see Dernier. That kid is twenty-one and fully grey.”

“He sounds too young to have been in battle at all,” Steve frowned.

“Yeah, he was an idealistic little shit. Lied his way into the army at fifteen.”

“I'm surprised no one stopped him, is all. He was in your regiment? Is that how you met all these men?”

“By ‘63 both sides were pretty much taking anyone they could get,” said Bucky. “And I met the commandos at Fredericksberg.”

“On the field?”

“In a medic tent.” Bucky swallowed. Steve was standing so close -- Bucky could see every freckle scattered across his face. “We were basically all that was left of the Union forces there.”

“The not-female first mate too?”

“No,” Bucky said, with a ghost of a smile. “No, we met him here in town. He and Romanov came over to America on the same ship. Romanov bullied her way into a medical practice, and Carter bullied his way into Dum Dum’s crew.”

“Are female crewmembers not permitted?”

“Um. Not usually.”

“Female warriors?”

“Not at all. Well.” He gave Steve a side eyed glance. “There was a private in my regiment I was pretty sure was a woman. Hell of a sharpshooter though, so I didn't ask too many questions.”

Steve gave him a tiny sideways smile and said, “Your arms are shaking,” and went back inside the house.

Bucky realized he was still holding the rope to the well. And that Steve had very neatly sidestepped his original question.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ [tumblr link](http://sonatine.tumblr.com/post/148254950594/of-salt-and-sand) ]


	3. Chapter 3

“Sorry, troops,” Bucky said, returning to the sitting room. “I've got water and bread and cheese, but not much else. Was gonna go into town tomorrow --”

“Jesus, Sarge, don't apologize,” Dum Dum said. His voice sounded scraped from the depths.

“Yeah, I'm fine to just sleep here by the fire,” said Jones. “Maybe forever.”

“You need help with the lighthouse tonight, Barnes?” Stark offered, accidentally breaking a sextant on the mantel he was fiddling with. “Shit. Sorry. I'll make you a new one.”

“I'm good,” said Bucky. “You all sleep. We’ll need you fresh to repair, probably everything, in town tomorrow,” he said, glancing out the window that was shuddering and banging in the wind.

“Shoulda boarded that up, maybe,” Morita said. He looked fused to the chair he was slouched in.

“Didn't have time, did I?” said Bucky absently. “Had to save your collective sorry asses -- just like in Virginia.”

“Hey, _Hill_ saved us in Virginia,” said Monty.

“False. _I_ saved us at Virginia,” said Dernier, and then the room devolved into familiar banter. Bucky hadn't even noticed that Steve had gone outside until he returned with carefully split firewood, a hammer, and nails.

“Would you stop throwing yourself into life-threatening situations!” Bucky said, taking the wood ungratefully. “Go sit by the fire, for God’s sake.”

“Told you, it doesn't bother me,” Steve said. He _did_ look oddly comfortable despite being soaked to the bone.

They boarded up the window together, with the comforting sound of the commandos’ chatter in the background, until Steve said, “Let’s go take care of the light. It's full dark now.”

It was only 4pm, but he was right. The storm had blacked out the sky, and there was bound to be ships out at sea still caught in the squall.

“Is there any point forbidding you to come along?” Bucky said, rubbing a hand across his face.

“Nope,” Steve said cheerfully. God, Bucky could see droplets of rain clinging to individual eyelash. He crossed himself reflexively.

“Get some rest,” he instructed the commandos, and fled through the door. He could feel their eyes watching Steve follow him.

+

It was a long night of hypervigilance, and the tower, despite being brick, swayed ominously throughout the night.

It was a lot less lonely than it would normally be, though.

“You've been in battle before too, haven’t you,” Bucky said.

“Yeah,” said Steve.

“And a commanding officer, I bet.”

“Yeah.” Steve looked up at him through his eyelashes. “How did you --?”

“You're bossy as shit,” Bucky said, grinning, and Steve pulled him into a headlock.

“It's called _decisive military action,_ ” he said, stomach warm against Bucky’s back, and arms almost in an embrace.

Bucky gulped. He hastily pushed Steve away, under the guise of going to check the kerosene level. “Yeah. You're right.”

Steve watched him, knowing full well Bucky had checked it a mere ten minutes ago, looking disappointed at the sudden coldness.

+

Though the worst of the storm was gone by morning, there was still an incessant rain throughout the day. The commandos left early to help with repairs around town, even in the rain, and then collapsed over to Hill’s boarding house, where she glared down any attempts to pay and immediately set about heating up water because ‘they smelled like the wrong side of a 3-day march platoon.’

Even Dum Dum waved aside Bucky’s offers to let them stay at the lighthouse.

“God knows you barely got room in that bachelor pad for a spare cat, much less a whole crew.” He stubbed out his cigar and immediately lit a new one. “Sides, I’m gonna stay hugging the coastline for a while. See if any ships need spare hands.”

Bucky didn't like the idea of Dum Dum not at the helm any more than than the crew did; but Dugan put on a brave face and set the commandos in motion doing repairs around the boarding house.

“God knows you layabouts need something to do with your hands that isn't pulling on yourselves -- sorry, reverend,” he said, wincing as he tipped his hat to a stunned minister.

Steve meanwhile seemed to take it for granted that he was staying at Bucky’s indefinitely.

He had already worked himself into Tony’s good graces by helping his wife, Pepper, find her pregnant missing cat (and just shrugging and swearing his silence when he walked onto Tony and his best friend Rhodes in a compromising position out in the smithy).

And he had mollified Sheriff Coulson’s distrust by supervising the removal of a fallen tree from the Town Hall roof.

“So I hear you used to be drowned body,” Nick Fury said to Steve as they were working the pulley for the tree.

“I heard you’ve recently escaped to freedom,” Steve said gravely. “I'm glad to hear it. That any society that calls itself civilized should have a system of slavery in place is appalling.”

“Real glad to hear you say that,” Fury said after an appraising look. “Was worried for a minute that you were a Greyback.”

“I have had generals in my army that were former Hebrew slaves, under Egyptian rule, and former Greek slaves under Roman rule. Such blatant disregard for human life always overturns, eventually.”

“Uh huh,” Fury said, after a longer pause this time.

Steve knew nothing about cooking, but once Bucky showed him the basics, it was like he’d known all his life. They fell into a routine in the following weeks, and by the end of the month, Steve was a fixture in the community and, despite Bucky’s best efforts, in his heart.

It was a part of himself he’d always known about and long ago resigned to hiding; at least as a man he could be a ‘confirmed bachelor’ for life, rather than the slightly less acceptable ‘old maid.’

He took pains by the start of the next month to subtly hint at finding Steve’s family, roots, or even logical provenance; but the only information Steve would happily reveal about himself was all hidden behind the mythological fantasy smokescreen. If he had horrors in his past that he wasn’t keen to talk about, Bucky respected that. Hell, he understood all too well. But Bucky was hesitant to let Steve just hide indefinitely.

For hiding can be just as damaging as confrontation.

Bucky even took him by Romanov’s quarters in Maria’s boarding house on the pretext of a social call. They eyed each other warily; more hesitant than Steve had been around anyone in town. When they left, Bucky took Natasha aside to ask about a possible operation: she said, with raised eyebrows, “But I saw no webbing between any digits.”

Bucky checked that night as he was saying goodnight to Steve: she was right. The webbing was gone. His hands looked utterly normal.

“Something wrong?” Steve said as went to go sleep in the hayloft as usual.

“Nothing,” Bucky murmured. “Don't you miss your family?” he blurted.

“Yeah,” Steve said. “But they'll be there when I get back. Don't you miss yours?”

“They're all dead,” Bucky said steadily, fooling no one, and this was an old wound, and it was _so_ unfair to have to keep dealing with it year after year.

“I'm sorry,” Steve said softly. He hovered in the doorway. “Do you want me to sleep with you tonight?”

Bucky jolted. He couldn't -- He knew Steve innocently meant just bunk together like shipmates or army buddies, or even the crew in the boarding house right now, huddling together for warmth and comfort, but --

“No,” Bucky choked and stepped back to the bedroom. “Good night,” he called, and firmly shut the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ [tumblr link](http://sonatine.tumblr.com/post/148314706649/of-salt-and-sand) ]


	4. Chapter 4

The next week brought rain every day, flushing out town secrets and aggravating grievances.

“Why do people forget how to act in bad weather?” Bucky grumbled, in town again for the _second time this week_ to help move documents from the nearly flooded town hall to the law office above Fury’s general store.

“Anything outside of normal makes people itchy,” said Jones. He sounded Mildly Irritated, which for Jones was the equivalent of a public breakdown.

“Missing Dum Dum?” Bucky finally asked.

Jones shrugged. “Just strange, is all. The crew being broken up.”

“I heard Dernier went onto the railroad,” Bucky said tentatively.

“Yeah. Demolitions.”

“The others?”

“Next town over. Monty went with Dum Dum to the docks.”

“Bet you he’ll win a ship in a game of poker by next month,” Bucky said. Jones cracked a ghost of a smile.

The rain flushed out two orphan twins from a cave near the coastline that nobody knew about, who came wandering into town so pale and quiet that the postmistress had the vapors, convinced two ghosts were walking down Main Street.

“I guess… the mayor and his wife could take them?” Sheriff Coulson said doubtfully.

“They've got eight already,” Bucky said.

“What about Barton?” Steve suggested.

“Who?” Bucky and Coulson said together. The twins looked on, impassively.

“The farmer on the west edge of town. He's got space -- and I bet he always needs extra hands around the farm.”

Bucky and Coulson exchanged a glance.

“That's not a bad idea,” Coulson said, and sent Bucky to deliver the twins and persuade the farmer.

“He’ll be more receptive to you than to me,” Coulson explained, and Steve waved merrily, inwardly laughing at the befuddled look on Bucky’s face, clearly wracking his brains how to talk to small humans.

Steve made two extra stops before returning to the lighthouse on the coastline: one to the general store and one to the train depot.

+

Bucky squelched into his living room, soggy from the soles of his shoes to the roots of his hair, and immediately changed into dry clothes: of which he had to choose between his Sunday Best and last year’s clothes (aka work clothes).

The upshot of this was that both his trousers and shirt were liberally spotted with holes; he jumped out of his skin when Steve stuck a finger through the hole near his armpit.

“You want soup?” Steve asked, as Bucky held a hand over his heart.

“Give the old man a minute,” he said, and Steve snorted, “Yeah, _real_ old,” and moved closer, expression fond and something, _something_ in his eyes that tripped Bucky’s pulse again, but for very different reasons.

Steve moved closer and Bucky was incredibly, incredibly terrified. Any faith in God he’d once had was destroyed along with tens upon thousands of soldiers slowly bleeding out in a hot field, but he’d never heard of anyone else being -- whatever it was. The church called it sodomy, but surely the happy warm feeling Bucky got around Steve wasn’t _bad_ , nor the desire to take _care_ of him and _help_ him --

Steve leaned up and pressed his lips against Bucky’s and it was like a dam breaking. Bucky gasped and pulled him closer; and then it was full instinctive biology.

Bucky had never slept with a man before. He’d been kissed by his commanding officer, Major Rumlow, in the woods before battle, and then shoved against a tree and threatened death if he breathed a word of it.

But now Steve was pushing him back onto the bed and all Bucky could do was clutch him close. He wanted to devour Steve. Every breath and small noise Steve made was winding Bucky more taut, like tuning a fiddle, and when Steve slid a hand down into Bucky’s trousers he arched upward, begging, _“Please,”_ without even knowing what he was asking for.

Bucky’s brain missed a few steps when they were divesting each other of clothing, and then Steve whispered, “Stay here,” and disappeared into the front room, returning with a hand shiny with -- axle grease? shaving cream? -- and circled a hand down below Bucky’s balls. Bucky arched up against him, and before long Steve had his fingers _inside_ of him, and Bucky didn't even know what kind of noises he was making anymore.

Once Bucky was shaking beneath him, Steve kissed him and then braced a hand on either side of Bucky’s torso and -- holy god -- _slid inside of Bucky_.

Bucky’s legs automatically clenched around Steve’s waist as Steve began to thrust. He couldn't look away from Steve’s face: Steve was staring at him with this expression like -- like Bucky was the only thing tethering him to earth, and Bucky felt an electric crackle start to creep up his spine.

He looked down and saw the head of Steve’s cock sliding in and out of him, hard and leaking, for _him, Bucky_ \-- and then Bucky’s vision whited out and he was clenching and shuddering around Steve.

“Oh my god -- Buck,” Steve said, sounding shattered, and then Steve was coming too and Bucky wrapped his arms around Steve’s shoulders, oversensitive and overwhelmed.

Steve slumped in top of him, panting. Bucky ran a hand through Steve’s sweaty hair and fell asleep.

+

He woke up a few minutes later when Steve slid out of him. Bucky squirmed. Then he burst out laughing.

“The look on your face,” Steve said, with a fond expression. “You dope. Was that --” he looked shy -- “the first time you --?”

“Uh. Kind of. First time with a man.”

“You were married before?”

“No, no. There were always a couple of, well,” Bucky shrugged, “around army camps in the war. Wanted to see what all the fuss was about. Didn't really.”

“Prostitutes, you mean?” Steve said innocently. “Was it better than your hand, at least?”

Bucky aimed a playful swat to Steve’s ass. “What about you?”

“I had a partner, a long time ago. He died in battle.”

Bucky startled.

“It's common to bond with either a male or female where I'm from,” Steve said gently, and Bucky just ached.

“I've never --” Steve hesitated, and traced the dip of Bucky’s mouth with a finger. “I've never fallen for a human, though.”

“Fallen, huh?” Bucky said, with what he imagined was an even dopier smile on his face. 

Steve pressed a kiss to Bucky’s forehead. “Yeah, jerk, I'm trying to tell you I love you.”

“I -- love _you_ ,” and God, that was a powerful thing, to think -- to think someone cared about him that much. “Though hate to break it to you, pal, but you're human too.”

“I am now,” Steve said seriously. “Until I choose to return.”

“Okay,” Bucky said, rolling his eyes. “So are you hungry, Human Person? Because you've worked me up the appetite of a horse.”

+

Bucky read the barometric pressure that night in duty in the lighthouse and immediately tapped out a message to Rhodey down at the depot, almost an exact replica of the one he sent two months ago.

“This is the stormiest autumn I've ever seen,” he muttered and Steve leaned over his shoulder, resting a hand on his back.

“The Chrondrichthye Kingdom must be making a territory move,” Steve said grimly. “They tried out a preliminary invasion two months ago.”

“That how you ended up here?” Bucky joked, and Steve smoothed a hand down his spine, making him shiver.

“Yeah,” said Steve. “I was mostly dead when Dugan hauled me out of the ocean. I would have been, if I hadn't have started transforming into human state. Think it was the oxygen,” he added thoughtfully, and Bucky smiled helplessly up at him.

“I love your stories,” he said, pulling Steve down for a kiss.

+

Deep beneath the town ran a fissure; a fissure that was sealed ages and ages ago, when the land was still yet underwater.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ [tumblr link](http://sonatine.tumblr.com/post/148379158459/of-salt-and-sand) ]
> 
> hey guys, having kind of a rough week -- if you want to tag me in/send me nice stuff on tumblr, that would be super appreciated. love you all


	5. Chapter 5

Steve was strangely subdued the next morning in town as they found themselves once again boarding up windows and stopping people from making a run on the general store for food.

“Getting real tired of this disaster cycle every week,” Fury said to them from behind the counter. “If it keeps up, Rhodey says the trains won't come through enough to fully supply us for winter.”

Steve went pale.

Bucky reached a hand to Steve’s shoulder, keeping the barrel he was holding steady under his other arm. “Hey, you okay?”

But then he saw the postmistress’ beady eyes fixated on the point of contact between them. Bucky's hand, his stomach, and Steve's face simultaneously dropped. 

“Buck? I want your advice,” Steve said as they were leaving Fury’s.

“Sure,” said Bucky, who was keeping his hands jammed tight in his pockets and away from temptation.

“If you were causing a problem -- unintentionally -- for your own selfish gain -- but again, this is more… causing a problem by inaction… what would you do?”

“What would _I_ do?” Bucky huffed a laugh. “Oh, well, I would be selfish to the end of the line. But you --” he felt safe enough amongst the worried hustle and bustle of Main Street to give Steve a fond look -- “you'd do what was right, no matter what.”

“You're sure?” Steve said in a small voice.

“Absolutely,” Bucky said, distracted by Tony building something on his forge with a _massive_ fire (what could be so important right now?). “I've never met anyone as good as you.”

Bucky missed Steve’s look of misery because he was sidetracked by the juddering and shuddering of the earth and the small pools of water that popped up along the dirt of Main Street.

+

“Higher ground, _attention_ ,” Sheriff Coulson shrieked, “I need everyone to evacuate to _higher ground immediately,”_ although the bubbling didn't seem to be progressing any further.

“Safe points include Barton’s Farm, the Banners’ House, and the lighthouse!” Fury bellowed, directing traffic with his hands and glaring out of his one eye. “Whichever you can get to first!”

“Barnes!” Rhodey shouted from somewhere in the crowd. “Barnes, you seen Steve?”

But Bucky was busy commandeering someone’s horse to ride up the cliffside.

Most townspeople had fled to the nearest high points, but Bucky had at least a dozen people in his sitting room by the fire (tracking dirt and muck onto his floor) and a few more stragglers crowded into the lighthouse steps just inside the entryway.

“Seen Steve?” he asked, to a general chorus of shaking heads.

“Barnes,” Hill said quietly, appearing at his elbow, “Helen is hyperventilating -- she's eight months and --”

“I’ll find Romanov,” Bucky said. "Try to calm her down in the meantime. Seen Steve?”

Maria shook her head.

After fighting through a growing wind and a thousand other requests from his unexpected houseguests, Bucky finally found Romanov squirreled away in the barn with Morita, obsessively cleaning and sipping whisky from a flask.

“This place is a sty,” Natasha said before going to find Helen, dodging the rain that was just blowing in.

“You should really shoe your horse more frequently,” Morita told him. “Tell Stark you that you know about The Depot Incident.”

“What's --?”

“Don't ask. Just mention it. He’ll give you a discount.”

“I'm not gonna _blackmail_ Stark, Jesus, Jim. You seen Steve?”

“Out in the cliffside isn't he?”

Bucky stared. “What?”

“Monitoring the storm, right? Hey -- where you going --?”

Bucky could barely see through the rain, and the wind was physically pushing him sideways, but he spotted Steve, sure enough, at the lookout point, watching the storm circling over the ocean.

There came a massive gust of wind and Bucky saw Steve go over the edge.

Bucky didn't even think. He jumped right after him.

+

The cold was a shock and the shock was in impact.

Bucky forced his limbs to move, squinting through the murky, churning water for a glimpse of blonde. All he could think was of Steve’s tiny body being thrown about by a wave, just as  _Bucky’s_ body was thrown about by a wave, shoved under the water so far that he couldn't see daylight.

It was all dark.

He didn't know which way was up.

He picked a direction and swam, thinking, _just a little longer -- you'll find the surface in a minute --_

+

Bucky’s eyelids cracked open, fused by salt, and the first thing he saw was Steve sitting by his side, a weepy smile of relief splitting his beautiful face.

And that's how Bucky knew he was dead; Steve’s body finally matched his vitality and personality. He was a glowing Greek god of health and muscles.

“What the hell were you thinking, you moron?” Steve demanded with an emphatic swish of his…

Bucky rubbed at his eyes. Then blinked again.

“I asked you a question, jerk,” Steve said, ducking his head to lay a kiss on Bucky.

Bucky’s body responded automatically. He pulled Steve in closer, savoring the feel of his skin and the salty taste of his mouth.

“What do you mean what was _I_ thinking?” Bucky said, breaking the kiss to glare at Steve. “What were _you_ thinking standing so close the to cliff’s edge in a storm like that?”

“I was thinking of the proper trajectory for diving with minimal impact damage,” Steve sniped. “But then I had to go rescue your dumb ass.” His eyes were soft and he was tracing the lines of Bucky’s face with his thumb.

“Throat hurts,” Bucky told him.

Steve’s eyes crinkled up. “That'll be the saltwater.”

“Why are you big?”

“That’ll be the transformation. Behold, my true form,” he said, and Bucky could hear the worry behind his mocking tone.

“I like it,” Bucky assured him, reaching out a tentative finger to poke at Steve’s absurdly sculpted torso. “But I like the small version too. I like you any way,” and ah, there was the sunshine smile.

“You --” Steve’s attention was distracted and he pulled his upper body out of the bubble Bucky hasn't realized they were in. Gazing out of it was like trying to stare through the surface of a lake: hazy and a little distorted.

Bucky looked down. He was lying on a bed made of something white and vaguely spongey, but clearly expensively fabricated. Outside of his air bubble was a white room with curving walls. Steve was floating just beside him, talking quietly and intensely to another man whose lower half of his body was obscured in a fish tail.

Just like Steve’s.

The other merman saluted and swam out of the room. Steve poked his head and torso through the bubble again.

“Sorry. There’s kind of a war on.”

“Son of Triton, huh,” Bucky said.

“Yep,” Steve said.

“Well,” said Bucky, “I feel like a tool.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEY thank you all so much for your kind messages and nice thing tags this week -- it was super helpful, and i love you all. glad you're enjoying this story, nearing the end now!!
> 
> [ [tumblr link](http://sonatine.tumblr.com/post/148497282854/of-salt-and-sand) ]


	6. Chapter 6

"Tell me when you're feeling better,” Steve said, fussing with Bucky’s hair, “and I'll give you the tour.”

“Feeling fine now. Fine enough to discuss your dramatic plan to just disappear without saying goodbye.”

“It wasn't _meant_ to be dramatic,” Steve said crankily. “I left you a note. Under your pillow. It said not to worry and that I’d be back soon.”

“Well, someone's going to enjoy reading that,” said Bucky, picturing half the town pawing through his possessions. “Shit, you didn't sign it _love, Steve_ or anything, did you?”

“Uh.”

Bucky scrubbed a hand through his hair. “Guess we’ll worry about that later.”

“Let's get you some food, then.” Steve waved a hand and the bubble shrank to encapsulate only Bucky’s head.

Bucky swung his feet out of bed (he was fully clothed, thank God), and walked with Steve out of his small room and into a larger corridor, still white and curved. He held tightly to Steve’s hand, as walking was a little more difficult through water than through air, and a lot bouncier, and Steve considerately slowed his pace.

“This feels strange,” said Bucky, poking at the bubble surrounding his head.

“Don't worry -- it looks strange, too.”

Bucky smacked a hand against Steve’s arm. It definitely didn't hurt, and he definitely didn't have to hide his wince.

“How are you breathing?” Bucky asked, and Steve guided Bucky’s hand to the side of his neck.

“Gills?” Bucky said, stroking his fingers down the fine flaps. Steve shivered.

“Sensitive,” he murmured.

“Oh really?” Bucky murmured, leaning in to kiss at Steve’s neck and run his tongue across the gills. Steve’s breath hitched, and he snaked an arm around Bucky’s wait to pull him closer.

“General?”

Steve snapped away and saluted. “Sir!”

“As you were,” said the grizzled and battle-scarred merman floating before them. He stared at Bucky curiously. Bucky stared back, gulping a little. He was built like an ironworks.

“This is my partner, Bucky,” Steve said, linking their hands. “He’s human and from the surface.”

“Ah,” said the merman, after a pause. “Good, good. Pleasure to meet you. General, you have a briefing in half an hour.”

“Sir,” Steve acknowledged, and the merman went away, waylaid by other military types and lots of saluting.

Bucky turned to Steve, eyebrows raised. Steve was blushing.

“Partner?”

“Yeah,” Steve said, fearlessly. “Haven't felt this way about anyone since Sam. If it --” his confidence faltered -- “if you--”

“Hey.” Bucky nudged a shoulder against his. “I've never felt this way about anyone, ever, so -- you’re it for me, okay?”

Bucky was rewarded with another radiant smile, and God, he could live off of that forever, but Steve was tugging him down the hallway again -- what Bucky had assumed was a disconnected room was actually a giant maze of corridors.

When the hallway opened up into a massive plaza -- large as the entire town Bucky lived in, with buildings towering high as the lighthouse, surrounding the wide open central arena, bustling with markets and industry and winding roads --

“This looks like Ancient Greece,” Bucky said quietly to Steve, holding tight to his hand as passersby bustled past. “Or paintings of Atlantis--”

Steve smiled, but was interrupted by yet another military type sidling up, harried, and asking for advice.

“I have to go,” Steve said apologetically. “it won't take long. You can explore around, or go rest.”

“Can I do both?”

“Sure.” Steve pointed to a largeish tower on the far side of the plaza. “My quarters are over there. Fifth floor. Go whenever you want.”

“Steve. It'll take me like a week to get there on foot.”

“Take a seahorse,” Steve said, with a look of _obviously_. “Put it on my account.”

+

Stranger in a strange land didn't even begin to explain things. Bucky didn't speak the language. He didn't know the customs. He thought he might have accidentally offended a few people -- but again, there was no way to be sure.

He was exhausted after an hour.

By some miracle, he managed to acquire a seahorse, convey that Steve was going to pay for it, ride it to Steve’s quarters, and locate the fifth floor (which was actually the seventh floor, but there were no entryways to the third or sixth levels).

He fell into an exhausted sleep in the palatial apartment in what he assumed was the bed. Was this how Steve had felt all the time in town? Bucky had never before considered; and now he felt guilty and regretful.

+

Bucky woke up in darkness. Soft lights flickered in the city below, in a wondrous balcony view.

Steve was lounging on a sofa, studying maps and documents spread across a table.

“Hey,” Bucky croaked.

Steve glanced up. “Hey back. How you feeling?”

“Okay. Hungry.”

Steve pointed to a marble table laden with a feast. Bucky shuffled over and dug in. He wouldn't have been able to identify what he was eating, but it was good.

“My dad was impressed by you,” Steve said shyly.

It took a Bucky a moment to place who Steve could possibly be talking about. “You call your dad _sir?”_

“He calls me _General,”_ Steve shrugged, as is this explained things.

“I barely spoke to him.”

“It was your demeanor, more than anything. I told him about you; he said there’s a place for you in the war council, if you want it.”

Bucky lowered the savory pastry in his hand.

“What do you mean?”

“Well,” Steve said, slowly. “If you wanted to stay here -- permanently -- that’s an option for us.”

“Steve. I don't know the language. I don't know the culture. I can't even breathe here.”

“There are ways around that,” said Steve. “If I stay on land, permanently -- with you -- could we live together, openly? As two men?”

“No,” said Bucky immediately, “it’s a sin.”

“Says who?”

“Uh, God? Ministers, mainly. Other people.”

Steve snorted. “The gods have relationships with all genders of human and non-human creatures and monsters and … oh, you meant the Christian God. Hm. Well, I don't know much about that one. Other people like you struggle --”

“What do you mean others?” Bucky said, banging his head on the back of the giant, ornate chair. “Others like _me?_ Like us? In town? Who?”

“Not gonna betray anyone’s confidence like that,” Steve said softly. “Sorry.”

“Your accent,” Bucky realized. “You used to -- you sound more like me now.”

“Well, yeah,” Steve said, cracking a smile. “The longer you stay somewhere, the more you start to pick up the vernacular. But yeah, you're not the only man who likes other men. And there are women who like women. Tons.”

“There are others,” Bucky repeated, dazed. But he was slowly grasping onto their dilemma. “We could live as two bachelors?” he suggested helplessly. “And just be careful with affection in town.”

“We could,” Steve agreed.

“But you're needed here, aren't you?”

“I am,” Steve said steadily. “This war is stretching into its fifth year and it's taking effect on the surface.”

“Oh,” Bucky said.

Steve rose and leaned over Bucky, hands braced on the chair armrests.

“Don't fret,” he said, kissing Bucky softly. “There’s always a way around things.”

Bucky wanted so badly to believe this. He tangled a hand in Steve’s hair, feeling like the worst kind of insensitive jackass. “But if --”

A group of military types burst into the room, shouting over each other. Steve responded in a commanding tone, and they saluted and backed out again, still chattering.

“News from the front,” Steve murmured, kissing Bucky again, though clearly preoccupied. “I have to --”

“Go,” Bucky said with a smile that felt heavy to lift. “I'll be here.”

+

“ _Barnes_ ,” Tony yelped as Bucky staggered into his sitting room. “Where the hell have you been?”

“You bastards noticed I was gone?” Bucky said with a weary smile. He flopped into his chair.

“Not till the storm passed,” Tony admitted. “Where’s Steve? Er--” His face twisted into panic.

“Steve’s fine,” Bucky said. He felt so tired. “Took a tumble into the ocean. We waited out the storm in that cave the twins had been hiding out in.”

“Where’s he now then?”

Bucky hefted another smile, hopefully his last of the night. “You won't believe this.”

+

“ _Washed up on the shore?”_ Pepper repeated. "The whole boat?"

“Fully intact!” Helen said. “With water damage, obviously, but nothing Dum-Dum can't fix.”

“Amazing,” Pepper said again, basket forgotten on the ground. “So the crew’s back together now?”

“And Steve with them,” Helen said. “You know his ma died in the passing over the Atlantic? He’s all alone, poor boy.”

“Not if he has the commandos now.”

“Barnes must be missing him though.”

“Yeah, got on well, didn't they? Just like brothers.”

+

“Dr. Banner,” the postmistress gushed as soon as he crossed the threshold, “did you hear?”

“Hear what?” Bruce said politely. He’d already been told by five people this morning alone, but wouldn't dream of depriving her of the latest gossip.

“The most incredible thing! Helen came in here at the crack of dawn -- the new babe has her up and about, you know -- and _she_ heard from Rhodey -- Bucky Barnes got the most interesting telegram yesterday.”

“Oh?” said Bruce, in what he hoped was a mysterious tone.

“Well, you remember Dugan’s first mate Carter, who went to the city when the ship sank, bless his heart. He ended up neighbors with a family that knew Steve’s ma in the old country. And happened to know that she spoke of, once, distant cousins already settled in America -- that was who she was hoping she and Steve would stay with at first, while getting on their feet.”

“You don't say.”

“I _do_ say. Well, Carter naturally inquired as to the name of these relatives. They couldn't remember, but they wrote to family back home to see if they remembered the name.”

“And did they?”

“Did they ever! They got the reply just this week and Carter sent a telegram instead of a plain old letter because he just couldn't believe it.”

“And what was the name?” Bruce asked, just wanting to collect his mail and be done with it all.

The postmistress leaned forward, eyes sparkling.

_“Barnes.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ [tumblr link](http://sonatine.tumblr.com/post/148551679144/of-salt-and-sand) ]


	7. Chapter 7

Steve returned on the first day of winter, bitterly cold, but clear. 

“No storms since you left,” Bucky said, hugging him tightly and ushering him inside.

“Fancy that,” said Steve, pulling Bucky in for a thorough kiss. Bucky had made sure all the curtains were closed and all doors locked ahead of time. 

“Miss me?” Bucky said as Steve manhandled him into the bedroom, and his personality made so much more sense now, small form notwithstanding.

“You have no idea,” Steve breathed, pushing Bucky down onto the bed.

+

“So he’s not on Dum Dum’s crew anymore?” the reverend asked, signing the receipt.

“Nope,” Fury said steadily. “Barnes rode all the way to the docks in the next town over. Said ‘you're family, you're coming to stay with me.’ And Steve turned in his resignation just like that.”

“It's only right,” the reverend declared. “Family takes care of each other.”

“And those boys have been alone for far too long,” Fury said.

“The Lord provides,” said the reverend.

+

“The butcher told me today that it was nice to see distant cousins who are affectionate as brothers,” said Steve.

“That so,” Bucky gasped. “Feel very brotherly right now?”

“Oh, sure,” Steve said, fingers buried deep inside Bucky’s ass.

“How'd you get Carter to send that telegram anyway?”

“Owed me one,” Steve shrugged. “I did him a favor. Readjusted some water.”

“Okay,” Bucky said, not really caring what Steve meant right now. “Fucking get inside me before I die.”

“Aye, Sarge,” Steve grinned, and Bucky momentarily lost his breath.

+

“Steve around?” Sheriff Coulson asked as soon as Bucky descended from the lighthouse.

“No,” Bucky said, eyebrows raised. “He's the next town over for a couple weeks. Took a job.”

“Damn it, could use his advice. Here Barnes, you going to sleep soon? Or you got a minute to spare?”

Bucky rubbed his eyes wearily. “I can give you an hour.”

+

Steve woke Bucky by sliding into bed, all cold and wet still. Bucky kissed him hello, slowly and deeply, and ran a thumb over the webbing between Steve’s fingers.

“Fresh off the boat,” he teased.

“Shut it,” Steve said sleepily.

“Everything okay back home?”

“For now,” Steve agreed. “What's new around here?”

Bucky caught him up while stroking his back soothingly, and they fell asleep tangled together and warm under the quilt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bucky’s heart breaking at the beginning refers to when the last member of his family died, leaving him alone in the world
> 
> Rhodey and Nick Fury escaped from South Carolina together up the Underground Railroad. They were heading for Canada, but Tony’s blacksmith shop was a stop on the railroad and he and Rhodey fell in love. Rhodey and Fury figured they were far enough north to be safe (the town was welcoming enough and largely abolitionists) so they stayed 
> 
> I'm writing a short related oneshot set in this verse that is shameless Maria/Natasha PWP - stay tuned (there will obviously be a Steve & Bucky appearance)
> 
> [ [tumblr link](http://sonatine.tumblr.com/post/148587753194/of-salt-and-sand) ]


End file.
